


0 Degrees and below You

by lanondolce



Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:35:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28895205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanondolce/pseuds/lanondolce
Summary: Shouldn't this make him happy? Iceberg is sure, he should be happy right now. But sex with him, for some reason, just leaves him feeling hollow and empty.
Relationships: Dr. Gears/Dr. Iceberg (SCP Foundation)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 22





	0 Degrees and below You

The hand on his chest was warm.

So was the tongue prodding at his lips. He was asking for permission-he was initiating a kiss.

Iceberg allowed it. He opened his mouth, and that same tongue dipped inside, sliding against his own. The older man never seemed bothered by the younger's low temperatures. Where most people were warmer, Iceberg was colder. But Gears had never once commented on that.

His movements were calculated, methodical. The kiss didn't last any longer than Gears deemed necessary. When he pulled away, a string of tiepid saliva connecting their lips for a few seconds, Iceberg gasped. It was a small, faint sound.

He was glad it was over with.

He didn't mind the pecks on the lips. He didn't mind the goodmorning kisses, either. But something about the older man's mouth pressing against his, about the way his tongue explored the inside of him, made Iceberg's chest ache. It was a feeling he couldn't name nor understand. So he cast it aside, he swept it under the rug. 

Gears wouldn't kiss him again after that. It seemed, for every round of sex they had, only one kiss was allowed. Iceberg couldn't tell if he resented this, or if it relieved him. 

Instead, Gears' hand would slide further down stomach, fingertips grazing his abdomen, tracing the dip of his hip bones. When he reached his boxer shorts, Gears would tug them down and toss them aside. 

Iceberg could not for the life of him discern what the other might have been thinking at that moment. Did he find the sight of his naked body attractive? Did it turn him on? Was this just a courtesy on his part? He couldn't tell. He never could. 

His eyes were like those of a doll. Unblinking, unfeeling. Cold. As if there were nothing behind them except for plastic. 

Gears dragged his tongue across the length of his shaft. Despite Iceberg's uneasiness, he always got hard under the older's ministrations. He knew what to do, he knew which parts of his body Iceberg wanted him to touch.   
The younger moaned when he opened his mouth and swallowed him all the way down to the base; the older seemed to lack a gag reflex.   
Icerberg's muscles involuntarily tensed: Gears' throat was warm, oh so very warm. And soft, too-the way he fully enveloped his dick, tongue teasing the underside of his shaft was enough to make his hips buck up.   
A part of Iceberg wondered if he'd let him fuck his face. If he'd just sit there, pliant and unmoving, never breaking eye contact, as he held his head still and thrust his dick down his throat.

But he wouldn't dare ask.

Gears seemed to enjoy warming his cock. Keyword was "seemed"-Iceberg didn't actually have the damndest clue what the other thought of it. But his blowjobs usually consisted of just that: Gears' breath tickling his pelvis, cheeks hollowing out as his head bobbed with imperceptible movements. Cockhead grazing against the back of his throat. Cold eyes digging into his soul like a pair of scalpels. 

Iceberg always looked away, biting down on his fist. 

Eventually, Gears released his dick. It slid out of his mouth as he gasped, the sound deep and heavy.  
Iceberg gulped. He didn't know what was next. He never did. A myriad of questions rested on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't spit out a single one: _"_ _Did you like that? I liked that, it felt good, do you want me to blow you next? Do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to top this time?"_

He simply let the older decide where the night would go, he left it all up to him. Communicating with Gears, Iceberg had found, yielded either poor results, or no results at all. The silence, that was occasionally interrupted only by wet sounds and shaky breaths, was far more comfortable. 

That's what he chose to believe.

It appeared Gears wanted to be the active partner tonight. Iceberg could tell because his hand had wandered all the way down to his entrance, fingers brushing against the delicate rim of his hole. Iceberg shuddered.  
He didn't have a preference when it came to topping or bottoming, he was fine with either. He didn't know if Gears had one; sometimes he rolled him onto his stomach and fucked him into the mattress, sometimes he'd lower himself on his assistant's cock and ride himself to completion. It depended. On what? Iceberg didn't know. His mood? What Gears believed his partner might've preferred? Or simply because in his head, that's the way he thought it should've been? That same-sex lovers were supposed to take turns?

So many questions, too many questions. And they were so loud. He should've been focusing on the sensations, on the lube he could feel being poured inside of him, and the fingers that were scissoring him open. But Iceberg couldn't. The buzzing, the nagging was always in the back of his head.  
Despite the two of them barely having done anything, he was already growing tired.

"Are you in discomfort?" 

It was one of the only things Iceberg had ever heard him say during sex. He would say it whenever the younger bottomed, usually during prep, sometimes when he was inside him. 

Iceberg shook his head, still not making eye contact. This response was satisfactory to Gears, and he pulled out his fingers.

He felt something wet and hot push up against him, and he knew exactly what it was. Gears' size was…considerably large. Perhaps a little too large for Iceberg's liking. The first time he had bottomed, he cried and cried, both while they were doing it and right afterwards, tears spilling down his cheeks and freezing in glossy, translucent streaks. But everytime Gears had asked him if he wanted to stop, he urged him to continue.   
Because Iceberg had been sure, it would've started feeling good at some point. That at some point, the pleasure would've overtaken the pain and discomfort, and that he would've felt happy. Because they were lovers, and when lovers rolled around in the sheets together, when they touched each other and kissed each other, they felt pleasure. They felt excitement. They felt…well, love.   
But that day, it never felt good. It only hurt and he limped around site for a week or so. 

The head breached the first ring of muscles. Iceberg forced himself to relax as he slowly breathed in and out. His knuckles turned white, because yes, he had grown used to how it felt, how the other's dick stretched him open and how it burned, but he could never help the way he fisted the sheets.   
  
  
Cold droplets of sweat started forming on his forehead.

Inch by inch, the older sunk inside. Iceberg writhed, making small noises. Gears was slow, he made sure not rush things, but he didn't comfort Iceberg. He didn't cup his cheek or hold his hand, he didn't whisper any words of encouragement or praise. Not that Iceberg expected that from Gears, or anything. 

When he was all the way in, he stopped.   
He was still staring at him. His gray eyes were still looking down at him and the younger finally, finally met his gaze.

He said nothing. And neither did Iceberg.

Eventually, Gears thrusted. Iceberg yelped, looking for something to hold onto while the older began rocking his body back and forth. He considered his options: the sheets, ( _'Why was it so thick, it was always as if he were splitting him in half'-_ ) Gears' shoulders ( _'it was rubbing his walls raw, turning him inside out everytime he pulled in and out_ '), Gears' arms, maybe- _ah, shit-_

Iceberg grit his teeth and whined. He was noisy, very much so, a far cry from his partner, who rarely ever let out so much as a moan. Even on the occasions where Iceberg had him pinned down and was the one fucking him, even though he tried his best to please his superior, he never got more than a strangled, shaky gasp out of him.   
And he hated it. He wanted to know what he was feeling, he wanted to know if he was happy and if he was making him feel good, if it felt good inside of him or when he was the one inside him and he just wanted him to say something anything _even the few times he asked him he would only ever shake or nod his head and Iceberg hated that he hated that fuck, shit, did he even care if he said anything if he said how good he felt and how he was hitting all the right spots because it felt amazing but fuck, did he care did he care at all he did not care-_

The noises he made were growing louder, needier. Iceberg didn't notice that he'd been babbling a long string of curses and pleas, or that his legs had begun shaking. Gears did, however, and sped up, thrusting with more force. 

The bed creaked and groaned underneath them. Iceberg's mouth was hanging open, blue eyes unfocused as he was pounded into. Gears seemed to have gotten it down to a science, how long his thrusts should've been and at which angle. He had learned exactly how he needed to move to make his partner climax. And just like everything else he did, he made love quickly, efficiently, and before Iceberg even knew it he could feel his own orgasm approaching. Too soon, he didn't want it to end so soon, he wanted more but a part of him also wanted it to to be over with as quickly as possible and-!

Iceberg's back arched over the bed as he came all over his stomach with a loud moan. He shook, and...

He wanted to reach out for Gears. He wanted to wrap his arms around him as he basked in the afterglow of his orgasm, he wanted to hold him tight as he thrust into him even if he was overstimulated as he waited for Gears to finish as well but-

But he didn't. He just laid there, taking it, grunting and groaning in discomfort. Eventually, the older man blew his load as well, the sticky substance coating Iceberg's stomach in spurts and mixing with his own. 

When it was over, he let out a long sigh that Iceberg dared to call pleased, (though maybe, he was projecting) and laid down next to him, mattress sinking due to the added weight. His breathing was deeper, more laboured than usual. His eyes were closed.  
Iceberg preferred it when his eyes were closed. He looked calm, peaceful. Human, even. 

Gears' hand was on his chest. That very same hand from before. His touch was gentle. He was by no means a bad lover, or terrible at sex. But for some reason, the ghosts of those fingertips haunted him, the memory of what had just happened replayed over and over in his mind and-and, he started to feel sick.

He pushed Gears' hand off of him and turned around, back facing his superior. Gears didn't question this, he didn't ask him if anything was wrong, or even acknowledge what the other had done. He simply laid there. 

Iceberg didn't turn back around to look at him again. He wanted to be held, but the thought of being held by _him_ made him feel even more nauseous. His stomach felt sticky, gross-he wanted that stuff off of him, but even when he wiped it off with the dirty sheets, he could still feel it. It lingered, it seeped into his skin. 

He pretended he didn't cry that night. 

**Author's Note:**

> Me: *is browsing gearsberg tag on ao3, sees there's no angsty smutfics w unhappy sex*  
> *cracks knuckles* not on my watch 
> 
> This was made in like two hours, like virtually everything I've ever written (except for that one 239 fake report log/tale which took a staggering three days) because ngl gearsberg do be hitting kinda close to home tho 
> 
> There's gonna be a second chapter from gears' POV, though I'm not sure when I'm gonna get around to finishing that. Anywho, if you happened to read, ty!!
> 
> (Also I know the fanon? Name for Iceberg is julian buuuuuut I'm just so used to calling the doctors by their last names oop)


End file.
